<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I'll be the light and lead you home (when there's nowhere left to go) by HomebodyNobody</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599771">I'll be the light and lead you home (when there's nowhere left to go)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomebodyNobody/pseuds/HomebodyNobody'>HomebodyNobody</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outer Banks (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:48:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomebodyNobody/pseuds/HomebodyNobody</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hi, Dad,” he says, his heart pounding, his veins already humming with fight-or-flight adrenaline. He can feel his brain kicking into overdrive as his body is tensing to prepare for whatever comes next. Keep your voice down, his mind reiterates, reciting rules that governed years of his childhood, learned the hard way and necessary for his safety -- for survival. Stay an arms length away, nod and agree, don’t tell him no, respond with “yes sir”, keep your voice down for as long as possible, and get out before the yelling starts at all costs… But, now, in the midst of this frantic inventory, a new rule makes its way into his consciousness. </p><p>Stay between him and Kiara.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera, JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), Kiara Carrera/JJ Maybank</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll be the light and lead you home (when there's nowhere left to go)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alexis and I started writing angst in the gc one day okay and then it turned into this I would apologize but idk I think it's okay </p><p>title from 'Find You' by Ruelle</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Letting Kiara come in with him was his first mistake. They’d gone to the Maybank house to get him fresh clothes and search for any records of Luke’s smuggling operation back in the day, maybe find some crooked cops he’d paid off. They were both silently hoping Shoupe was on the list. Anything they could find that maybe they could hold over his head, make him listen to John B’s side of the story. JJ was also hoping he could find logs about currents or the consistency of patrols, maybe make it easier to get John B off Kildare, after the first attempt failed so spectacularly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His second mistake was trusting anything concerning his father, even his schedule. JJ had heard his dad was on the day shift at the marina, and he thought they would have at least until five. But Luke Maybank is, if nothing else, unreliable. At three, the screen door slams open and JJ’s father staggers in, a bottle hanging from his hand, already stumbling. JJ freezes, halfway through rifling through a pile of papers on the desk, and very slowly straightens up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Dad,” he says, his heart pounding, his veins already humming with fight-or-flight adrenaline. He can feel his brain kicking into overdrive as his body is tensing to prepare for whatever comes next. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep your voice down, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mind reiterates, reciting rules that governed years of his childhood, learned the hard way and necessary for his safety -- for survival. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stay an arms length away, nod and agree, don’t tell him no, respond with “yes sir”, keep your voice down for as long as possible, and get out before the yelling starts at all costs… </span>
  </em>
  <span>But, now, in the midst of this frantic inventory, a new rule makes its way into his consciousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay between him and Kiara.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes half a step back, slowly, reluctant to let his father know just where his priorities currently lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re back, huh?” Luke says, taking a swig out of the bottle and staring JJ down, unhinged rage in his unfocused eyes. “You little prick?” The insult bites, but it’s an old feeling, like picking at calloused skin. “What you come for?” He accuses, and JJ keeps moving, shifting his weight from foot to foot smoothly, quietly, knowing where the floor creaks and careful not to move too quickly. “Booze?” his father is still staggering towards him, boots heavy and loud, shirt open and tank underneath stained and unwashed. Deep, hot shame rises in JJ as he sees what he knows Kiara must be seeing. “Money?” Luke throws the bottle, and JJ feels Kie jump behind him as it smashes against a wall, spraying the last of its contents across the already filthy room. “Cause you already sucked me dry of that, boy,” Luke says, pointing an accusatory finger at his son. “You ain’t gettin’ any more of that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just here for my stuff,” JJ says, finally reaching Kie. Her hand lands on his side, fingers held loosely in his shirt, anchoring him as much as herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your stuff?” Luke repeats, “Your clothes? Your bike? Your shitty fucking guitar? I paid for all that.” He’s lurching towards them, closing the gap, and with every step, JJ’s heart ticks up another notch, thumping in his chest. “Nuh-uh,” his father grunts, “That’s my stuff.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s his stuff,” Kie says from behind JJ before he can respond. Her voice is loud, confident. Which, when it comes to Luke Maybank, is stupid and dangerous. JJ's shoulders tense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kie,” he whispers, “Don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your stuff,” she says, whispering to him. Her eyes are still fixed on Luke and she’s drawn herself up like she’s readying herself for a fight. She looks up at Luke, and even though JJ can feel her shaking, she spits the next words, young brown eyes sparking against the flint of age and exhaustion. “He’s being a dick on purpose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you just call me, you little bitch?” Luke demands, his eyes narrowing as he takes another threatening step forward. And there’s the speed, the power, that JJ knows too well. He knows Kiara thinks the alcohol has made him slow, that his intoxication makes them safe, but JJ knows better, understands that the illusion is his protection, that he plays to it, operates carefully, even at his most unhinged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kiara doesn’t flinch, but her hand curls tight in JJ’s shirt, and he steps fully in front of her without thinking, blocking her fully from Luke. “You can’t talk to her like that.” The words are falling from his mouth before he even has time to process them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The unexpected defiance in his son’s voice leaves Luke so stunned that the anger drains from his face and, for a moment, he stares at his son, his mouth hanging slightly open. The dumbstruck expression would almost be funny, if not for the fact that every nerve ending in JJ’s body is pinging with fear. Normally, when things with him and Luke began escalating like this he would either run to the Chateau or lock himself in his room, the door providing a barrier from his father’s wrath that they hurled biting words through until Luke drank all the anger out of himself and passed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, now, JJ can’t move. Not when he’s standing in front of Kie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke moves before JJ can stop him, and before he knows it, his forearm is diagonal across his father’s chest, his eyes locked on a hauntingly familiar blue. “Don’t fucking touch her.” JJ’s voice is low, dangerous and threatening, and this rage is different. Cold is quiet when it kills you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father takes a step back, and JJ won’t let himself feel relieved, not yet. He knows better than to let his guard down when he’s in front of Luke like this. Years of experience have taught him that the unexpected blows are the ones that hurt the most. If he has his hands in front of his face, protects his nose and curls in tight, he can ride it out, but he has to stay broad, stay open. He has to be able to take these hits. For Kiara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I see,” he says, looking between the two of them with a drunken leer. “You're fuckin a kook, huh son?”  JJ’s stomach rises in revulsion at his words but he forces himself to keep calm, keep the anger and disgust and terror of his face, careful not to reveal anything that could be used as future ammunition. The less Luke knows, the better. It’s true of course, that he wishes he was, that he loves her more than he’s ever loved anything, but to hear it from his father’s mouth in such crude terms turns it sour, turns it wrong and dirty and common, turns his love for her into just another thing to hate about himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse --” Kiara starts. With as little change in posture as possible, JJ leans back, putting his back almost flush on her chest. He shakes his head in the smallest of movements, and it’s a testament to their friendship, their bond, that she catches it, the words sticking in the air as she cuts herself off. The message is clear: </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t push it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” JJ starts, and his throat is thick, even as he fights to keep his voice even. “It’s not like that. Would you just --” He doesn’t even take a step, just shifts his weight forward, and Luke is in front of him again, pushing his chest forward, trying to start a fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just what, you little shit?” Luke’s voice is low, because he’s caught onto the game JJ is playing, smarter than he looks, paying attention. His usual methods won’t work, not the yelling or the throwing things, not the ramping up his son’s temper until JJ breaks before he does</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ takes in a shaky breath, fighting with every ounce of willpower to keep his burning temper low, to bite down on the explosion coded into his DNA. “Just let us go.” The last word tastes like acid as it comes out, “Please.” The seconds drag by, excruciatingly slow, each one charged and volatile. Luke’s eyes are hazy, defeated and tired and bitter as he looks back into his past, seeing himself reflected in blue desperation. Those are Maybank eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence is broken with a chuckle, forced and sharp. Luke stumbles backwards, collapsing on the old, sagging sofa, picking up another bottle from the collection scattered across the table, twisting off the lid and taking a generous swig. “What about you, little miss trust fund?” he slurs, pointing the bottle at Kiara, who’s still pressed to JJ’s back, her chin brushing his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me?” and she tries to put a challenge there, but her fear is showing through, in the slight shake, the dip of her tone. Her hand hasn’t left his side, still curled tightly in his shirt, and she’s leaning into him, now, accepting his protection, starting to understand that she needs it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke leans forward on his knees, seeming pleased that she’s taking the bait, and JJ’s sweating now, planning all the ways he can get from where they’re standing to the door in as little time as possible. “You like slummin' it down here?” he asks, and his face, so like JJ’s, is hard to watch. She feels her stomach turn at the realization that this is JJ’s future, if she can’t pull him from the worst of himself. “You like to make your daddy mad, hangin around with this piece of shit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she says with a noncommittal shrug, even as her heart pounds against JJ’s back. “My dad’s always asking when JJ’s going to be around next. I don’t think he minds.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lie</span>
  </em>
  <span>, JJ thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Complete lie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His heart swells anyways, against the fear in his chest, because she’s defending him, putting herself in danger when it’s his fault they’re here in the first place, his fault he comes from a place like this. It kills him -- that the man threatening her has his last name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, sweetheart,” Luke laughs. “You don’t have to lie for him.” The pet name bites, like he meant it to, but she feels stronger, with Luke further away and JJ pressed against her. Every inch of him feels like a reassurance of </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- the way they get through everything. It’s this small, momentary comfort that pushes the next words out of her mouth, that allows herself to say them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she says, and JJ feels her eyes slide from his father and settle on him, her gaze tracing his profile, maybe lingering on his lips, if he lets himself wish. But wishing is always foolish, in this house. “But I’d do anything for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke knows when he’s been beat, and something falls off his face, when he understands that he doesn’t own JJ, not like he used to. He takes another drink. “Well, in that case,” he says, and Kiara’s gaze snaps back to where he’s sprawled on the ancient, stained couch. “You can do him another favor and get him the fuck out of my house.” he nods to the duffle bag on the floor, “His shit too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ turns, having to take half a step away from her to do so, checking in, and finds her looking between him and his father, chewing on her lip in that way that she does. “Kiara,” he whispers, reaching down for her hand. His face so close to hers she can feel his breath moving her hair. She’s never heard him more tired, more afraid. “Please,” He looks from their joined hands back up to her eyes, and he is cracking, a boy broken and begging. “Let’s just go” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at him for a moment, a million promises passing unspoken between them, a thousand smiles and quiet, golden moments remembered. She nods, adjusting her hand so that their fingers are now intertwined. “Okay.” He doesn’t even bother with the papers on the table, just scoops up the bag, ducking his head and dashing across the living room. He pushes her out the door, his hand brushing the small of her back, guiding her in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get it while you can, son,” Luke shouts, a parting shot fired at JJ’s back, just before he crosses the threshold. He stops, freezes, the same fear and tension and adrenaline immediately binding up in his back and shoulders. “She’ll realize how good for nothing you really are,” he yells, the anger rising again, now that he’s not faced with their bond, the way they look at each other. “You’ll see.” Every part of JJ wants to turn around, charge back into that dilapidated, haunted house, haul his father against the wall and slam his fist into Luke’s face. But Kiara turns on the steps, her eyes wide, and lays a hand on his arm, gentle against strained tension and caged strength. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JJ,” she breathes. And that’s all it takes, just her eyes, just his name, whispered like a prayer. He steps down next to her, the door slamming shut behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t breathe until the car has started and they’re pulling away, and then he’s breathing too fast, the force of it shaking his shoulders, caving his chest in, rattling in his lungs, and all he wants is to scream. Kie keeps looking from the road back to him, anxiety filling her eyes until she gives up and pulls over. They’re just off the main road, under a willow tree, late summer tinting everything green, and the world is too quiet, too peaceful, for the chaos storming in his mind, in his heart. She slams the car into park and reaches for him across the center console. He falls into her, his forehead pushed against her collarbone, clinging to the arms she wraps around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she says, high and scared and quiet, “It’s okay, we’re okay.” He shakes silently, because if there’s one thing he knows, it’s how to muffle a sob. She tries to keep her breaths even, to let him imitate them, trying to calm him down while keeping her own shit together. Her mind races, because she knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>about</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luke Maybank, had seen the bruises a million times, not realizing just how bad it was, how much it hurt. There was so much more behind the physical wounds, years of psychological warfare, of Luke grinding JJ down, setting him on fire and kicking the ash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” His lungs are burning, but he manages a weak laugh, because this isn’t entirely new, after all. Having her there, it certainly made it worse, but they got out, and his dad didn’t hit him, and didn’t touch her, and she’s on his side, for now and forever, that has to be true after today, after all she said for him. “Kiara,” he says, trying to free himself from her arms, but she’s holding him too tightly, her cheek pressed to the top of his head. “We’re okay. You can breathe now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He...he can’t...the way he talks to you,” her words come in short gasps, full of disbelief and shock and anger, and as the adrenaline wears off, tears well and fall, outside of her control. They fall in JJ’s hair at first, until he gently pries himself from her grip, sitting up and facing her. “It’s not -- he can’t -- and then --” Her eyes stay on her hands, his fingers looped gently around her wrists, holding them still in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kie, it’s okay,” he repeats, and his heart has slowed in the effort to calm her. She can’t look at him, won’t look at him. “Kie, seriously.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, stop,” She shakes her head rapidly, “I don’t...I’m sorry, JJ,” She takes a shaking breath, still not meeting his eyes. “There’s no reason I should be crying, he’s not my father. I’m not the one who gets treated this way --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kie, really, it’s okay,” he insists, interrupting her senseless babbling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Her words came so softly JJ could hardly hear her, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just - it’s different actually seeing it happen.” She looks up at him, finally, and there’s heartbreak in her eyes. He’s seen it before, when she came crawling back after her Kook year, when Henry Avon dumped her, the night John B -- well. He’s seen it before. It kills him, the hurt in her eyes, and even more so the fact that he’s the reason it’s there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kie,” he whispers, one hand coming up to wipe a tear from her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just --” she starts, and then chokes down another sob. “How do you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question catches JJ off guard. “Do what?” he asks, because this has been his whole life; ever since his mother left, since Luke’s anger turned to him. He doesn't remember much before it, barely knows any difference. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Live with it,” she blurts, “We -- I guess I didn’t know how bad it was until -- until --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cat’s ass?” He offers, his voice tinged with humor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the tears she manages a weak laugh at the absurd name. “The cat’s ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts drift as he considers this, his eyes still studying Kie in concentration and, for a moment, he’s not entirely sure he knows the answer. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> he lived with it? The walking on eggshells any time he steps through the door to the place he’s supposed to be able to call home, the hurling of words no child is ever meant to hear from their parent, the bruises and cuts and occasional broken ribs that are almost always from falling down stairs. Then he feels his fingers still resting gently around Kie’s wrist and he knows the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kie,” he starts, and she looks at him, and for a second, he can’t breathe. He thinks he might be about to tell her, feels the words building in his chest like a rising wave, but she speaks before it can crash over both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you don’t deserve that, right?” she asks, with tears in her eyes, and the words shock him, cutting to the center of him, the way she does, completely unaware. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I --” he starts. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve love,” she insists, and he just stares at her teary face, beautiful in the dappled sunlight, eyes shining and warm and endlessly deep and kind. “You’re a good guy, JJ,” she says, and he can’t speak, feeling shattered in the best way, remembering all the words embedded in his bedroom door, all the insults and disparagements and disappointment like knives in the soft wood. “You know that, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how to answer that question, struck silent and dumb because he thought for so long that his friends kept him around for the laugh, because JJ’s fun and dangerous and stupid. Why else? He takes risks and he takes the fall and those are the only things about him worth keeping around. He doesn’t have anything inherently special about him, nothing that’s just him that makes him, well, anything at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean --” he says, but it’s half-empty and directionless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good guy,” she repeats, “You’re funny and loyal and a thousand other things and even though you’re a pain in the ass sometimes --” and here, she stops and looks at him, and their hands are entwined. At some point, they reached for each other without knowing, fingers interlaced, grip tight and unyielding and reassuring. “And I love you.” She says it like a fact, like it’s simple, like there’s nothing loaded or false about those words, like she can say them and mean them and that’s that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words have always been easier for his friends than for JJ. They throw them out on the dock, in the hammock, on the porch, and for a long time he wouldn’t say it back, waiting for them to take it back, to realize they don’t mean it, that JJ isn’t worth that attention, that affection, that respect and regard. It was a long time before he believed them, and even longer before he started saying it back. It’s easy now, the way the sentiment passes between them, frequent and flippant and familiar. It hurts, the way Kiara says it, because he means it more, always means it more, means it in that chest-caving-in, mind-swallowing, all-consuming way. Means it like he can’t live without her, thinks about her lips on his and his head between her thighs, means it like he doesn’t know what life would feel like without her in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says, “I love you too.” And he knows what she hears, sunlight and laughter and temporary sentiment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, JJ, I --” she looks at their joined hands, shakes her head on a half-humorous breath. She reaches up for him, drags her fingertips over his cheekbone, up the sharp cut of his jaw. He watches her eyes, and they trail over his lips, and his heartbeat steps up in his chest because no </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this is happening, not when he’s wanted it for so long, dreamed about moments with her that may open doors like this, not now, not this afternoon. Finally, their eyes meet, and she smiles, uneven and unsure, her eyes still glassy and overflowing with heavy things too long unsaid. She knows if she repeats herself, he still won’t get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she kisses him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just her, at first, and when he doesn’t respond, she backs down, fear and anxiety surging in her chest because maybe she’s wrong, maybe she’s been wrong, maybe all the flirting and the staring and the half-meant remarks have been jokes after all. But then it seems to click, settle in, that she’s kissing him because she meant it in the way he always has, that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, and he surges forward, responding eagerly against her lips. They’re both pushing down smiles, hands climbing into hair and faces pressed together and the light she carries with her seems to flood through his veins, chasing out the darkness and shame and fear gathered there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally pull apart, eyes and lips shining, the day seems to have undergone its very own revolution. “Oh, shit,” JJ says. “Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kiara giggles, and he loves that sound, loves the spark it ignites under his skin. She drops her forehead against his and he never wants to stop touching her, never wants to stop feeling like this. “Yeah, dumbass,” she says. “For a while now, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away because he just wants to look at her, watch the way the shadows of the willow branches move across her face. “I love you,” he says, and it escapes unintentionally, slipping out into the small space, said through a smile, easy and simple and true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans back in, whispering across his lips before they meet. “I love you too.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi hello how art thou<br/>my <a href="https://homebody-nobody.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a><br/>Alexis' <a href="https://hmspogue.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a><br/>the <a href="https://hvitstark.tumblr.com/gcshenanigans">jiara gc</a><br/>follow everyone on tumblr and subscribe to them on ao3 bc I love all of these nerds so so much<br/>don't forget to tip your fic writers<br/>(the tips are comments)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>